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Earlier this year, I found myself device-less in a foreign country I had never been to. I was traveling in Medellin, Colombia for three weeks, but my phone was stolen on the third night there and I'd forgotten to pack a charger for my laptop. No maps, no messages, no way to check in with anyone - much to the disappointment of my parents who probably thought I had been kidnapped. I was completely off the grid. When I first lost the phone, panic set in. How would I navigate a city I barely knew? How would I meet friends, find food, or figure out my day? But a few hours into the first device-less day, something surprising happenedL without my devices, I was forced to wander. I got lost on purpose, lingered on streets I would normally have strolled past, and stumbled into small cafes, quiet plazas, and even an impromptu Keinemusik show. Losing access to technology didn't just disrupt my routine - it actually opened the possibility for happy accidents, and a little bit of serendipity.

Spontaneity carries a very real and human joy, and yet it has become increasingly rare in modern society. Our social lives are now so mediated by technology that nearly every interaction is planned, scheduled and optimized. We plan nights out with friends through messages, organize dinner plans via apps and RSVP to events we already know about beforehand. The unexpected, unplanned encounters that break our pre-meditated routines have become scarce.

Part of the reason for this scarcity is that society has grown fearful of leaving anything to chance. This is surely a learned, sheepish behavior. We are taught from a very young age that we can have total control over our future if we stick to a plan, follow the rules, and make wise choices. Risk and uncertainty are generally framed as failures to be avoided rather than opportunities to be embraced. Efficiency and control have become moral imperatives. We internalize the idea that spontaneity is sloppy, inefficient, or even irresponsible. As a result, we schedule our friendships, curate our experiences and pre-order our joys, leaving little room for the unplanned encounters that once made life vivid. The irony is that in trying to control everything, we often miss the very moments that give life its texture, surprise and human warmth. The cynicism towards spontaneous human interaction is modernity's greatest vice, and an attitude of spontaneity is the very antithesis of that modern view.

Historically, we were surrounded by the social and physical contexts that nurtured chance encounters. A casual walk to the post office or a stop at the local coffee shop might put you face-to-face with a neighbor, friend, or a stranger who could become a friend. Third spaces (churches, coffee shops, bars, etc.) and institutions of business (especially banks) were designed for human proximity and accidental encounters. But today, most of these spaces are either gone or have been replaced by sterile, corporatized versions - banks we don't actually go into, drive-through coffee chains, and online services that remove the need for physical presence.

Today's dating culture is a perfect example of how chance has eroded. So many people meet through apps, where matches are curated and filtered. Every potential connection is pre-packaged. Contrast that with how our parents probably met - at parties, on the street, in cafes, often through a mix of coincidence and courage. There was no swipe, no algorithm deciding compatibility, just human proximity and the willingness to take a risk on the unknown. The serendipitous sparks and unexpected conversations have been largely replaced by digital intermediaries and predictable patterns. In trading randomness for efficiency, we've lost the thrill of meeting someone when and where we least expect it.

The loss of serendipity isn't just about missing out on small pleasures. It's about what happens to our sense of social imagination. When interactions only occur on our terms, we start to conceive of social life as something we manufacture rather than something that exists naturally around us. We become the architects of our own social reality. But in doing so, we lose the joy of surrendering to the world as it is. Spontaneous encounters, in contrast, demand attention to the present, curiosity, and a willingness to embrace unpredictability. They require love for the other and joy of being surprised by someone else's presence.

There's a unique quality to these moments that texts and notifications cannot replicate. Consider a day when you knock on a friend's door without prior planning, and they answer with genuine surprise and delight. The joy comes not from efficiency but from the simple fact that you arrived unbidden, that the encounter exists outside of any plan. The unexpectedness, the break from routine, is precisely what makes it memorable and human.

Modern society, and the "always on" nature of the internet, however, treats such interruptions as impositions. We are trained to see spontaneity as a violation of our carefully curated schedules. A neighbor chatting on a flight or a stranger initiating conversation at a cafe can feel intrusive. Yet these moments are the very essence of social life - glimpses of a world beyond our screens and feeds, a world where the joy of the other can penetrate our self-centered routines.

My time in Colombia reminded me of what we've lost. Stripped of digital crutches, I was forced to navigate the city by curiosity and chance. I found beauty in the wandering, in being surprised, in allowing unplanned encounters to shape my day. I made friends by bumping into people and striking conversations. One in particular is now a close work colleague of mine - I brought him into my Investment DAO, and he introduced me to a software engineer who currently works for me. Losing my devices temporarily restored an architecture of chance - one that required presence, openness, and the willingness to embrace unpredictability.

We cannot fully reclaim spontaneity in a world dominated by digital planning, but we can create small pockets for it. Saying yes to the unknown, visiting places without a predetermined purpose, and engaging with strangers without an agenda are small rebellions against the efficiency of modern life. Serendipity is the willingness to let life happen beyond our control, to let joy emerge uninvited, and to allow the presence of others to shape our day. And yes, it's also a bit of luck.

Personally, the best places, people and experiences I have ever stumbled across or into have been chance encounters. Some of these encounters were fleeting, but others have lingered in ways I never expected, shaping entire chapters of my life. I can go as far as saying that in one of those unplanned moments, I was nudged towards someone unforgettable, and my life changed for the better. The lost art of happy accidents is not gone, it's just harder to find. And maybe that's why, when we stumble across them, they feel extraordinary.